


School Schedule

by wheel_pen



Series: Darkwood Eastport [26]
Category: Lie to Me (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fish out of Water, Magic, Polygamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3633477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In early summer, Luke approaches his father with a request to join his girlfriend Emma at the local school for a few classes in the upcoming year. This reminds Cal of how much work Luke needs to do on his education to achieve all his goals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	School Schedule

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe. I’ve given a lot of thought to the Darkwood culture, so if something seems confusing, feel free to ask. I hope you enjoy!

_Year four, June_

“Hey, Dad.” Cal grunted from behind his desk, squinting between his computer screen and a stack of papers. Luke took this as an invitation to enter the cluttered study and tried to step carefully through the piles of books, newspapers, and journals, making his way towards the couch. He started to pick up a handful of articles to make room to sit when his father issued a warning noise around the pen he clenched in his teeth.

“Don’t touch anything!” Cal ordered, removing the pen but not looking away from his work. Luke paused for further instructions; when none were forthcoming, he sighed impatiently.

“I can come back later,” he offered, though he would’ve preferred to resolve his question before Emma came over for dinner tonight.

His father ignored him adeptly for a moment past a reasonable amount of time, then suddenly looked up. “Put that stack… um…” He glanced around for an empty horizontal surface but found none.

“If I might take that, sir?” a servant asked politely, indicating the articles Luke still held. The teenager turned them over and the servants whisked them out of sight.

“Don’t lose those!” Cal called after the uniformed man. There was no response, and Luke smirked as he finally sat down.

“The servants must _hate_ you right now,” he guessed, amused.

Cal rolled his eyes. “They do not seem to _comprehend_ that I’m trying to finish my book,” he grumbled. “I’m supposed to finish the fact-checking and send the final draft back to the editor by the end of the month. Then, maybe, when it’s all done— _then_ they can clean.” He said the last bit a little louder, as if the servants needed additional volume to hear him when they didn’t appear to be present. Which they didn’t, of course.

“Can’t the publishing company pay someone to fact-check for you?” Luke asked.

“Who wants to fact-check a book about ritual murder?” Cal shot back reasonably. “Anyway, the servants did all the easy bits, names and dates and so forth. I’m working on the parts you actually have to _think_ for. What did you want, anyway?” he questioned abruptly.

Luke didn’t let his father’s mood dissuade him. You couldn’t be too sensitive to that sort of thing around here or you’d never survive. Instead he just stretched across and handed him the small piece of paper he’d carried in. “This is Emma’s school schedule for the next year,” he reported. He saw the slight look of exasperation in his father’s face at the mention of her name and waited silently for him to peruse the chart.

“Algebra II, English 301, Home Economics, Lunch, Chemistry, Spanish III, US History,” Cal read. “Only six classes? No wonder they can’t get anything done. What time do they get out each day? Two-thirty? Shocking, really. What else have minors got to do with their time in this country? Now, if we were living among the San bushmen of—“ He broke off at the pained expression on Luke’s face. “Right, lovely. What’s Home Economics, then?”

“You’ll like it,” Luke promised eagerly. “They teach child care, cooking, sewing, keeping a budget, that kind of thing.”

“Very sensible of her,” Cal agreed. “And you’re showing me this because…?”

“Well,” Luke began, slightly nervous about his father’s response, “I was wondering if I could attend a few of the classes with Emma next year.” His father raised an eyebrow in what Luke did not see as a positive manner. “Not all day, just parts of it, like we all do with Drivers’ Ed. And,” he added quickly, “Emma’s gonna be coming to the Marriage Prep _and_ Heritage classes, and Sunday School as well, so I thought it would be fair to see what kind of stuff she learns in return.”

Cal gave his son a long, appraising look, though that in itself didn’t bother Luke so much. He took the opportunity to study his father right back, and thus detected the softening in his attitude before Cal made it obvious. Then Cal of course saw that Luke saw and hurried to forestall him. “I’m not saying yes!” he insisted. “We have to talk details first. And I’ll have to talk to your mother. And the school. Lettin’ you kids on the sports teams is one thing, but I don’t think any Darkwood kids attend school classes regularly. Except for Drivers’ Ed.” He sighed. “But I guess you’ve got a pretty good reason.”

The way his father said it did not make Luke feel particularly proud or pleased, the way he usually felt when he thought about Emma being his _herdaya_. Technically, he supposed, it wasn’t that they were _herdaya_ ; they couldn’t help that. It was more that they were promised to each other, which was a formal agreement they both had chosen to commit to… without informing any parents beforehand. Luke sometimes suspected the problem was _actually_ that they had snuck off and gotten promised without his dad (or anyone else) suspecting that something was up. You weren’t supposed to be able to get away with that in a family of body language experts and human lie detectors. Then again, growing up in such a family had taught Luke a trick or two of his own.

“Get me a copy of Luke’s class progress,” Cal told a servant who had appeared just beyond the teenager’s eyeline. Then he turned back to his son. “Which classes were you thinkin’ of taking?”

“I thought maybe just Home Economics and Chemistry,” Luke replied carefully. He didn’t want to push too hard in this area—he’d noticed that Darkwood parents tended to be a bit sensitive to suggestions that their traditional homeschooling approach was lacking.

“Home Economics is good,” his father approved. “No substitute for the Marriage Prep classes, of course.” Luke nodded his agreement. “But didn’t you already have Chemistry? You and the White Stag girls set the kitchen on fire last year doing an experiment.”

Of course his father would remember—and exaggerate— _that_ particular incident. “Yeah, I’m on White Level now, Physics,” Luke confirmed, “but I thought it might be neat to see how they teach it here.”

“Well, it’s _your_ time,” Cal shrugged, “but I don’t think you can count it for anything.”

Luke nodded, having already considered that the redundant class wouldn’t actually fulfill any of his own educational requirements. “I like it, I don’t mind doing it again.”

The servant finally appeared with another piece of paper and handed it to Cal, who glared at him. “Bit _slow_ today?” he accused the unperturbed man, and Luke stifled a chuckle—the servants had really been inefficient in their non-essential duties regarding Cal lately, in protest about the mess the study had become.

“So you’re Black Level on Art and Music, White on Science, Math, and Technology, and Grey everything else,” Cal surmised, looking over the new chart. “And your first elective was Anthropology, which you’re done with, and your second is First Aid.” Luke nodded at each statement, though of course it was highly unlikely that the information on the sheet would be wrong. Cal compared the two class charts thoughtfully. “You already took Algebra II two levels ago, so that wouldn’t do much good,” he murmured, more to himself. “And Spanish III would be pointless…” He glanced up at his son. “What do they learn in English 301?”

“It’s sort of like Literature and Composition put together,” Luke explained, as best he could. “They read novels and stories and discuss them, and write essays, and they also sometimes have grammar stuff.”

“Hmm,” Cal replied enigmatically. “You just started Grey Level English,” he observed, and Luke nodded again. Even before Cal had known they were bound for America he had made sure all the children took English as their Foreign Language—he knew how useful it could be from his extensive travels, at least as useful as any one language _could_ be. “What if, you took this English 301 and we counted it as your Grey Foreign Language?”

Luke blinked in surprise, not having thought of this. “I presume there’s an English 401 for Emma to take in her last year? Maybe that could be your White Level.” A grin flashed across Luke’s face before he could stop himself—his father was encouraging him to spend even _more_ time with Emma, and thinking ahead to them being together over a year from now? This was a more positive response than he’d gotten in the two months since the promising had come to light.

“Would you wipe that silly grin off your face and pay attention, please?” his father said sharply, before Luke could get too comfortable. “Now, US History—I know you had that a few years ago, but it might be enlightening to know how they teach it to their own citizens. What?”

Luke hadn’t bothered to hide his slight unease. “Well, I don’t want to take _too_ many classes,” he hedged, though it pained him to do so. But he had a lot going on already, and he didn’t want to over-commit himself, especially when _some_ of it was just an excuse to spend more time with Emma.

“You’re seventeen, right?” Cal asked.

“Well, in a month.”

“And their school starts when?”

“Mid-August. About two-and-a-half months.”

Cal started scribbling on Luke’s chart. “Well, Home Economics could easily count as elective number three, and I don’t see why US History couldn’t be elective number four, since you haven’t had it for years. You could do a comparative analysis of the information taught between our classes and theirs. And English 301 would be your Grey Foreign Language…” He looked up at Luke intently. “How much did you want to take their Chemistry?”

“Well, I could drop it,” Luke decided. Mostly he’d picked that one because it was his favorite subject of the ones on her schedule.

“Good,” his father agreed. “So you take three classes at the high school, and all three can count towards you own status. Pending agreement of all relevant parties, of course,” he added. “And you get to knock off Grey English during the summer, since you’ll take it in the fall.”

“That sounds really good,” Luke enthused, thoroughly pleased with the turn this was taking. He hadn’t really thought it would go _badly_ , but he also hadn’t expected to leave with so much more than he’d asked for.

“Hmm, you seem too happy,” his father observed, in a disapproving way. He went back to studying the papers in front of him. “You’re about three-quarters done with Black Art and Music,” he noted. “Think you could get those done before school starts?”

“Yeah, I think so.” They obviously weren’t Luke’s favorite subjects, but he didn’t find them terribly difficult.

Perhaps he had agreed too easily, though. “And you’re about halfway done with your three White Levels,” Cal went on. “Think you could get one of _them_ done by the end of summer as well? Oh come on,” he encouraged, seeing Luke’s hesitant expression. “It’s for _love_ , man. Now which one?”

Luke sighed—he should’ve known there would be a price to pay for the accommodations his father was giving him. “Well, probably Math would be easiest to finish off.”

“Excellent.” Cal made another note on the paper. “So this summer you’re going to go from Black to Grey in Art and Music, and you’re going to complete your Math series entirely. Meanwhile, you’ll continue to make the usual progress in Literature, Composition, Thought, History, Science, Technology, and your First Aid elective.”

Luke almost groaned at the ‘usual progress’ line; he knew there was going to be no slacking in his immediate future. “But, you don’t have to worry about Foreign Language,” Cal added in a satisfied tone, as if that were a huge relief for Luke. “Then in the fall you’ll take two electives and English with Emma at her school, plus everything else at home, except for Math, which you’ll be done with.”

Cal looked speculative. “Next summer I want to get you started on college classes,” he decided. “Maybe just online. Well, you’ll need a lot of schooling if you want to be a psychologist,” he reminded the less-enthused teenager. “You’ll probably have to go to Boston. And you probably won’t want to do that until you can marry Emma and take her with you. But if your goal is still to come back here as soon as possible and work in the clinic, we don’t want to waste any of the next four years.”

Luke couldn’t help it; he was grinning again. All his father had to do was remind him of his two most important dreams—marrying Emma, and working at the Darkwood Clinic. Well, he wouldn’t mind traveling the world a bit, too, the way his dad had, but he could squeeze that in after the other two had been achieved. And all he had to do to get started was work his tail off at lessons over the summer. Plus the Marriage Prep and Heritage classes, Sunday School and Bible Study for his mother, summer baseball league, interning a few hours a week at the clinic—

“Spend some time at Emma’s house, too,” Cal advised, no doubt clearly seeing the thoughts streaming past Luke’s eyes. “Get to know her dad a bit more. We don’t want him hating you, after all.”

Luke sighed and let his head fall back against the couch. Why did he feel like that would be the biggest challenge of all?


End file.
